


Tell's Apple

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Feel-good, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: Sometimes, you just need the right pastry.(In which Barry's Bad Day turns out alright.)





	Tell's Apple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [languageismymistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/gifts).



> A HUGE thank you to prouvairablehulk for help with the bakery's name. Apparently a man named William Tell shot an apple above his son's head. So a pun on arrows AND a pun on William.
> 
> Scarlet: I have a Sad and need fluff  
> (muffled crashing in the distance)  
> Me: (kicKS OPEN THE DOOR) MY TIME HAS COME

A couple months ago, a bakery opened across the street from Jitters. It was painted all in green, with a gold-embossed sign that read  _TELL'S APPLE_ , a golden arrow piercing the words. Honestly, Barry had given it a couple weeks. Jitters always managed to put competitors out of business.

It's still going strong, and Barry really can't blame the locals. The pastries are so  _awesome_. The baker, Oliver, is also awesome, especially when his kid's around. He shares custody with the mom, and is on pretty good terms with her. William, his son, is a treasure. Also, the prices? Barry's college student wallet  _weeps_. Pretty sure he heard ballads from his ass the other day. From his wallet, not. Oliver  _is_ very good-looking, but like.  _They're good prices_.

After visiting his dad in prison, all Barry wants is a slice of green apple pie served with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream topped with a sprinkle of brown sugar. And the cinnamon,  _ugh_. Yes. Oliver says it's a specialty, but he says that about pretty much every item on the menu.

It's a sunny day. Good time to be bitter. Scrubbing a hand down his face, Barry reaches for the arrowhead door handles. Oliver hadn't put a bell over the door, and the post-lunch quiet is refreshing. Only downside is Will's at school. Fortunately, there's a familiar punching noise from the back. Oliver's kneading dough with his big arms and big fists and. Baking skills.

Barry is also very tired.

And dating this baker.

"Barry?" Oliver calls. Even though Barry's sure he hadn't seen him walk in.

"Uh, yeah," Barry replies.

The punching pauses. "Bad day?"

Seriously, how does he do that?

"Um. Can I have a green apple pie slice?"

Oliver comes out, elbows and apron covered in flour. There's a patch on his nose, a streak on his forehead from where he'd wiped his face. There's scrutiny in his eyes, but the rest of his face is deliberately neutral. Barry finds his chest already loosening.

"You got lucky," Oliver says, "Oven's about to go off in two minutes."

Barry nods and sits at the counter. The bakery looks pretty post-modern, and the sheer amount of lights and paraphernalia alone gives it a homey feel. There are a few customers around stuffing their faces with gooey wonders whose smell makes Barry swallow past his watering mouth.

Oliver takes a Robin Hood mug from under the counter and fills it with hot chocolate. He puts a red straw in it and slides it across the counter.

"You look like you need this," he says.

Barry smiles a little. "Bar tending, now?"

"Best one in the city."

Yeah. Yeah he is.

Barry leans up from his seat.

Oliver tilts his head. "I'm floury."

"Don't care," Barry mumbles. He waits for Oliver to meet him halfway.

Kissing Oliver is kind of like cold water on a blistering day. Or, maybe more fitting, hot chocolate for a cold chest. It's a tad scratchy from his stubble, a tad powdery from the flour, and tastes like candy apples. Today, Oliver smells like cupcakes; must be making a lot of 'em today.

Barry plops back in his seat with a sigh. Oliver takes a napkin and wipes some of the flour he'd rubbed off on him.

The oven beeps.

"One slice of pie," Oliver murmurs, "coming right up."

Barry stirs his hot chocolate with his scarlet straw. Iris will be on her shift now, right across the street. He should see her too. A talk with his best friend sounds perfect.

Later, though.

A shiny plate dances to him, accompanied by utensils wrapped in a green napkin. Barry makes a tiny sound and tears out his knife and fork.

The cold ice cream hugs the warm cinnamon and apple and get married in Barry's mouth. Not for the first time, Oliver hears a muffled, "I will put out for this pie."

Not for the first time, Oliver says, "We're not that kind of establishment, Mr. Allen."

Unlike that first time, Barry doesn't blush or stammer an apology. He winks and takes another big bite.

After the plate's licked clean and a few checks are rung up, Oliver sits beside him and quietly asks, "Anything else?"

Barry finishes his hot chocolate. It eases the tightening in his throat. "Um. No, I. I mean, I just. I kinda wanna be alone, for a bit? But. Not?"

Oliver smiles. "You got my spare key."

Barry also has tears in his eyes, thanks, Ollie.

"Just―" Oliver leans closer, "don't leave a whirlwind this time, alright?"

Barry finally laughs. "No promises."

He presses the money into Oliver's palm. Oliver hands some of it back. "You're not paying for the hot chocolate."

Barry pecks his lips. "I love you."

"I know."

Best pie ever.

**Author's Note:**

> It short but???? I mean?? PLS FEEL BETTER BAE


End file.
